Leisure Training Camp, Pt. II – Less Wind, More Cows

Leisure Training Camp – Day 0: Driving to Cuchara

The driving was lulling me to sleep, but any bump in the road sent my head flying, so really, I titled my head back and closed my eyes while Nichole and Brittney talked in the front seats. I watched the green grasses turn to brown, then saw the peaks of mountains as we grew closer. I was thinking about the frozen corn that was thawing out and hoped it’d still be good for the rice and bean bowl Kelly was going to make when we got there.

We cracked open a bottle of wine when we arrived and ate chips and guac as the beans simmered. Dinner was delicious. We were all grateful to be sleeping in separate areas after eating the beans.

We went over the next day’s route, where Kelly told us she hadn’t been in one part of the route so it’d be an adventure. And if I’ve learned anything about Kelly’s routes, it usually ends with me wishing I brought my mountain bike.

Leisure Training Camp – Day 1: Creepy Cows

We took Nichole’s van over Cuchara Pass and parked at a lake that was Wizard-of-Oz green. As we dressed to get ready, the wind ripped through my hair and I put on my rain jacket. At 8,468 feet above sea level, I wasn’t taking any chances with nature.

We all had to pee. I started walking toward the bushes when Kelly stopped me to say there was a toilet at the end of the road. She gave a soft warning that it wasn’t super nice, but it’d do and at least provide some kind of privacy. I took her word for it.

I was first to go in and there was shit everywhere. It was as if someone bent over and diarrhea’d all over the toilet and the wall behind it. Not to mention, the trash bag was ripped opened and trash thrown everywhere. If we were going to get COVID, it’d be in that outhouse.

I warned Kelly before she went in. Then we warned Brittney and Nichole before they got to experience it. Between getting ready to ride and the shit house, it warned up substantially, so we ditched jackets and coats and finally began our 40-mile gravel ride.

The gravel was in way better condition than in Westcliffe, which I appreciated. You don’t have gravel in Watopia, you know? As we rode further and further away from the van, the bigger the mountains grew and the quieter it got. At one point, we accidentally split into two groups: Brittney and I and Nichole and Kelly.

As we rode, we saw this house with so many fixtures we thought it should have been a mini-golf course. And then we saw something on a hill. Brittney thought it looked like a mushroom. I thought it looked like a penis. We talked about who would spray paint either of those on a hillside. I figured it was teenagers fucking around. I don’t remember why Brittney thought it was a mushroom, but when Kelly and Nichole caught up, Kelly said it was a “T” for Torres, the town we were in.

Made sense.

We kept playing leap front with a car from Texas. I’m convinced they were on a Sunday drive, on a Saturday. We actually had to slow down on our bikes because they were driving at a snail’s pace. It wasn’t a big deal. We weren’t trying to hammer, anyway. At least, that’s what I kept trying to tell myself so I wouldn’t get totally annoyed with these people.

This was also part of the route Kelly was unsure about. Other than the lakes of water we biked through, it was a beautiful loop. We could see the peaks of the San Juans (at least I think that’s what I was looking at). There was no one else around, other than Texas. There were green fields stretching across the horizon. And a husky playing in the grass as its dad vroomed about on an ATV.

We rode back the way we came, but this time, we had to navigate through a herd of cows. I don’t know if the cows are evil or dumb (or neither) because whenever we come up to them, they stop and stare and follow us with their black eyes as we bike past.

I’m always worried they’re about to attack, but they never have. So what’s the deal? Are they trying to compute what the fuck I am? Like, “What is this thing moving its hindlegs on another move-y thing?” Obviously, I’m not a cow whisperer, so I have no idea what I’m talking about.

Regardless, Brittney and I rode shoulder-to-shoulder through the pack of cows that just stared at us the whole time. When Kelly and Nichole caught up, they thought nothing of the creepy cows. We all made it to the van in one piece and no cows followed us back.

Later that day, we went mini-golfing at (what seemed like) an abandoned mini-golf course. It was a bring-your-own-club-and-ball kind of course, but boy was it fun to suck at something like mini-golf.

The biggest part of Leisure Training Camp is laughing. It’s kind of a requirement and it’s easy to laugh with people like Brittney, Kelly, and Nichole. We first started keeping score, but about three holes in, we gave up. Everyone was a loser in the game. And none of us cared.

Then we went to dinner in downtown Cuchara, which is about a block long. We ordered chips and salsa, tacos, and wine. Meanwhile, there was a guy singing cover songs. I clapped for every song he finished out of respect. I’m guessing because I look young, that’s why he asked me, “Do you know who that is?” Of course, I did. He had just finished John Cash’s “Ring of Fire.” Who doesn’t know that song? And I think he was surprised when I knew it.

We went back to Kelly’s and we watched Happy Gilmore because half of our group hadn’t seen it. We were probably halfway into the movie and I was falling asleep on the couch. It was time for bed. “Gold jacket. Green jacket. Who gives a shit?”

Leisure Training Camp – Day 2: Mud Bath

Well, it wouldn’t be a Kelly gravel ride if there wasn’t Adventure. The route started chill. We had a significant downhill until we took a right. Originally, it was going to be a figure out, but we’ll come to find out that that wasn’t going to happen.

Kelly warned us of a steep hill that seemed to go on forever. When we found it, we FOUND it. Anytime I’ve ever come to a hill (or any climb, for that matter), I usually just focus a few feet ahead of me and keep a steady cadence.

What made the effort that much more of an effort was all the mud. I realize it was definitely not LNT-copacetic. I thought there wouldn’t be so much fucking mud but it’d dry up and then there’d be another spot.

We finally got through the mud mountain, only to be greeted by a giant herd of cows directly on the path. I stood there, waiting for someone else with enough backbone to shoo them away. Luckily, Kelly and Nichole speak cow because they got them scattered in a manner of minutes.

And then we learned what real mud riding was like. It had to have been one solid mile of thick, slick mud we had to bike through. Usually, a mile is nothing, but a mile pushing through sticky mud, the whole back tire sliding around, you’re trying to stay upright, while also pushing forward without steering into a pit of mud, feels like a lot more than one mile.

It stuck to every part of my bike. I didn’t want to get off and walk because that meant stepping through it, which would have been way worse. Again, it was one pedal in front of the other until we finally hit the dry road. Then we proceeded to scrape chunks and chunks of caked mud off our bikes, tires, and gears.

We had only made it halfway through our figure-eight route and realized it was a little too late to keep going. There was also (what looked like) an impending storm coming our way. I sure as hell didn’t want to get stuck in that. We all had work the next day, after all, so we packed up our bikes.

But first, we stopped at the ice cream store. There was a huge family with tons of kids going into the shop at the same time as us and we were determined to get to the counter before them. Luckily, we did. After we packed and cleaned up a bit, we hit the ol’ muddy trail. We saw an area that is prone to flash floods and it looked like we had just missed it. I was super grateful that Nichole drove.

It was good to get away and to spend time with friends. It’s easy to fall into antisocial behavior and never want to leave the house. Anytime I second-guess going on some bike adventure, I always remind myself that I never regret a bike ride. I knew riding with the girls with zero expectations other than to have fun and kick it with people I enjoy being around would be worth putting my anxiety to the side and confronting any perceived issues as they came. And as they usually do, things worked out just fine.

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